The Conversation
by pretentious-emo-kid
Summary: First fic in a while. First Artemis Fowl fic ever. Post TAC, Holly and Artemis have got to have THAT conversation. It goes surprisingly well. In terms of shipping, it's deeper than friendship, but not girlfriendy/boyfriendy.


A/N: Hope you enjoy.

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><p>Holly was on her way to visit Artemis when Dr. Argon stopped her in the corridor 'for a word'. If she was completely honest with herself, she was worried. Something in his tone implied a delicate subject, and for all the times that Foaly had assured her the bunch of 'grapes' she held in her hand would show up as exactly that on all the Clinic's security, she couldn't help but worry that he would not have been so cocky had it been him smuggling them in.<p>

"Is there a problem, Dr. Argon?" she asked in her sweetest, most innocent tone, cocking her head to the side. She was thankful, in retrospect, that she had taken the time to go home after work before coming here. Something about her LEP uniform usually rendered even her best attempts at harmlessness useless.

The doctor almost looked a little flustered by her behaviour, clearing his throat and rearranging the pens in his pocket.

"No, Miss Short," he assured her (_now, __she __missed __the __uniform!_), "No problem."

At his words, she relaxed into her usual semi-military stance of choice, an impatient look on her face, her foot tapping rhythmically on the ground. She was already fifteen minutes late for the visiting hour, and she knew that Artemis depended on these short bursts of contact with the outside world in order to prevent his concocting of a devious plan to escape from the Clinic, taking every doorknob with as he left, just to wind Argon up. The Atlantis Complex was clearing up beautifully, but without Holly to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow, the boredom could well prove to be just as destructive as any actual disorder. Artemis' latest theory was that Argon was stretching out his treatment to persuade the publishers that there was, in fact, a book deal in it all. Apparently, Argon was putting this down to lingering paranoia. Frankly, Holly was inclined to agree with Artemis.

"What is then, doctor?" she queried, a little brusquely. "Because Fowl is waiting for me."

It was a defense-mechanism thing, referring to Artemis by his surname in front of fairies she wasn't well acquainted with. She was well aware of the prejudice that still tainted the People's view of him, even after all he done. She didn't like the looks that they wore at the sight of any intimacy between the elf and the human, so she simply did her best not to give them any assumptions to make. It angered her though. Sure, Artemis was her smelly Mud Boy, but she didn't like to hear other people talk about him like that. She wanted to show them the desperate look he'd worn at the _Eleven__Wonders_as he'd worked to defeat Opal once more. That was the incident that always crept into her mind. His confusion and desperate, hopeless fear had stayed with her ever since, and long would, she expected.

"Yes, Miss Short. Well, I wanted to talk to you about young Mister Fowl, actually."

Holly did not like the way he addressed her. Still, if there was ever a fairy inclined to assign great psychological significance to her uniform (or lack thereof) it would be a shrink, she supposed. Next time, she might come with her helmet and baton. What psychological messages would he find there?

They quickly entered Argon's office, closing the door on the nosey young nurse who had been hanging around them like a bad smell.

"Is he ready to finish his treatment?" Holly asked hopefully once they were settled. That would be nice. Artemis Fowl did not suit being caged like this.

"Nearly," replied Argon. "There is just one more reconciliation I want to make."

Holly nodded, keeping up. They had been working through the various aspects of Orion's personality, deciphering what they reflected about Artemis, and then dealing with the issue. Some had been easy, like his naivety regarding the veil between fact and fiction. Artemis, had been surrounded by many luxuries growing up, but a normal childhood had always eluded him. Even bedtime stories from his father had turned into lectures about questionable life philosophies. Artemis had been bemused to find that stubbornly believing in fairies enough to invest several million dollars in a kidnapping plot did not, apparently, qualify as childhood whimsy.

"_No, Artemis," Holly had chuckled. "You should have been camping out at the bottom of your garden, waiting for elves to come out at night."_

"_Is that so...old friend?" he'd challenged, eyebrow raised. "Do you often frequent the grounds of Fowl Manor yourself?"_

"_Oh, yeah," she'd quipped promptly. "Many a solstice, you'll find me dancing naked amongst the hyacinths, howling at the moon."_

"_Rhododendrons," he'd corrected immediately._

"_Damn."_

"_Indeed. Otherwise, a highly plausible scenario."_

Holly didn't know how Artemis and Argon had resolved the matter. Though she had helped Artemis compile a list of the many things that Orion's quirks had revealed about him, she was rarely privy to any information after that. Those steps were for the young genius to take privately, not under the scrutiny of his friends. Still, it looked like she was going to be involved in this one. She wondered what Argon had planned.

"It's simple enough," continued the doctor, almost as though he had heard her thoughts. "One of the main characteristics that you identified in Orion was a tendency towards romantic overtures. Aimed at you."

Holly winced. She knew that it wasn't Argon's place to judge (and privately thought that he was actually rather discrete about the whole interspecies elephant in the room) but she couldn't help imagining what was running through his head right now. That was the problem with one person going into therapy - everyone else seemed to find themselves wondering how energetically their own actions were being discussed. Still, it was small price to pay if it helped Artemis.

"Orion lives a fairytale, and he needed a princess," she protested. "I'm the only woman Artemis Fowl has regular contact with who isn't his mother or a childhood constant. It was either me or Foaly."

"While I don't doubt that you would look much more attractive in a dress than Mr. Foaly, I think you're affording too little significance to Orion's behaviour," Argon admitted. "Artemis cast you as his leading lady for a reason, and the two of you need to talk about it. Clear the air."

Holly ran a hand through her hair, sighing heavily.

"I've been putting it off," she confessed. "Neither of us does 'emotional' very well."

Argon surprised her by taking a bottle from his desk, and pouring generous slugs of nettle vodka into two identical glasses. He passed her one.

"I have dealt with far more complicated urges in fairies than the desire to nurture a friendship with a human," he bluntly informed her. "I'm not going to try and define your relationship with Artemis, because that's not my job. My job is to make sure that Artemis Fowl is mentally healthy enough to remain a valuable asset to the People. In my medical opinion, knowing where the two of you stand will help him with that."

He swallowed his drink quickly and Holly followed suit after a moment of nervous hesitation. She shuddered as vodka hit her throat, silently marveling at Argon's lack of reaction. To the drink or her relationship with Artemis, she wasn't sure.

"So you want me to go and talk to him about it now?" she asked hoarsely.

Argon placed the bottle and glasses back in his desk.

"The air conditioning in Artemis' room seems to be suffering from some technical faults. It would be helpful if you could keep him occupied while we fix it."

Holly regarded him, nonplussed.

"Invite him over," suggested Argon. "Cook dinner. Don't make it feel like therapy. Laugh a little. You could both do with it."

Holly nodded grimly and gathered her up her grapes. Time to have it out with the Mud Boy.

0000000000

Artemis looked up as Holly came into the room. He had been reading something - she couldn't see what from where she stood - but now his attention was trained carefully on her. She could tell that he was feeling lonely.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she breathed, feeling slightly flustered.

"I hadn't noticed any lateness," he informed her.

Holly snorted.

"That's a rubbish lie," she told him. "You notice everything, Artemis. Anyway, you don't have to 'play it cool' or whatever phrase Juliet would use. I'm making it up to you."

The smallest flicker at the corner of his eye betrayed him. He didn't want to look clingy, but he was intrigued.

"How will you do that?" he enquired, with feigned nonchalance.

"By cooking you dinner," she replied deliberately. "Some nice fairy food."

She watched his reaction, concerned. He had slipped back into his habit of counting words; he hadn't spoken a sentence of more or less than five of them since she'd come into the room. She wondered what effect her unapologetic flaunting of the forbidden number would have.

Another flicker, this time at his jaw. But he swallowed it quickly and forced a smile.

"That sounds very nice," he replied determinedly. "I have never eaten your cooking before, Holly."

Those twelve words had cost him a lot, and she dropped her 'grapes' on the side to come and stand beside where he sat. She placed her hand on his knee.

"We're having it at mine," she told him with a grin. "A few hours of freedom, hey Artemis? Sound good?"

His smile had more of the pre-Atlantis Artemis about it - his lips a crooked curve, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"You have just saved Dr. Argon's personal vault from a midnight raid, Captain Short."

They were ready to leave in a matter of moments, Artemis only pausing to change his shirt, wash his face and splash on a little more cologne. The smell made Holly's head spin slightly. In her head, it was Artemis and it was familiar, but it was also Mud Man and it was unlike anything below the surface of the Earth. She still couldn't decide whether she liked it.

Artemis came back into the room from the en suite.

"People keep pulling that face when I put this on," he noted, interested.

"The People don't really use perfumes," she admitted. "It smells a bit...odd to us."

"Yes." He was frowning thoughtfully. "Now that I am living amongst you, I can't help but notice that you all have quite distinctive natural smells anyway. I suppose perfume as a concept was never really going to take off."

She was almost too relieved by the returned natural flow of his speech to notice what he was saying. Then, she registered.

"What do I smell like to you?" she wondered, the words out before she could contain them. She couldn't help her curiosity; she was so used to regarding Artemis through quizzical eyes, musing over his human traits. She often forgot how unfamiliar she must be to him.

"Earthy," he replied neutrally. "But sweet. Like patchouli. Not very contemporary Mud Man at all."

She stored the information for a later date, absentmindedly holding her wrists to her nose as she spoke.

"Ready?" she asked.

Artemis took a final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her.

"Apparently so," he replied. "Lead the way, Captain."

She gathered up their jackets and opened the door.

"Shouldn't we take with the grapes with us if we're eating?" wondered Artemis. "As a dessert?"

Holly turned to face him, confused.

"Oh," she realised, following his sightline. "Yeah, those aren't grapes."

0000000000

It was only once Artemis was sat in a lotus position before her coffee table that Holly properly registered the fact that he was finally in her home. She leaned her head through the kitchen door to watch him. He looked strange against her familiar knickknacks and photographs. Like Wendy had brought Peter Pan to school with her.

"I appreciate the demonstration of trust, Holly," called Artemis, head tipped to the side as he examined her prom photo. "Allowing me into your safe space."

Holly rolled her eyes as she examined the contents of her fridge.

"This is weird," she sighed, more loudly than she had intended.

She heard a series of creaks and shuffles, indicating that Artemis had climbed to his feet and was coming through to the kitchen. She took a breath, steeling herself for what must inevitably come.

Artemis appeared at her side.

"Walnut salad?" she proposed breezily.

He craned his head through the crook of her arm to regard the fridge. Holly was grateful for the cool air that wandered lazily over her cheeks, diluting the blush that was beginning to form. Him, tangled around her, in her home, looking at her food, wafting his Mud Man smell all over her belongings. It was too much. There had been far too much crossover between her work and personal lives lately, and Artemis bloody Fowl was the reason for it. Her mouth tasted sour.

"Your kitchen is remarkably understocked for entertaining," noted Artemis, more than a hint of amusement in his voice. What was he, anyway? Psychic?

"Yes, it is!" she replied hotly, extracting herself from him and retreating to the other side of the room. "I haven't got any food in because I had absolutely no plans to bring you home and make you dinner. It was Argon's idea. Apparently we have to discuss Orion's crush."

She was breathing hard, and a look of concern creased Artemis' brow.

"I had thought as much," he said softly. "All this is upsetting you."

He was counting again, she realised immediately. She supposed that bringing him into the unfamiliarity of her home, and then going slightly loopy at him was all a bit much. After all, he'd been away from Butler and his family for over a month now. He was alone underground, marked out by his unique species and mental condition. She was supposed to be his rock.

"I'm sorry, Artemis," she murmured. "I guess I've been putting this conversation off pretty stubbornly and now it's caught up with me."

"The potential labels scare you," he deduced. "We are more than friends, but you do not know exactly what we are yet."

"Stop counting, Artemis," she sighed. "Like you said, this is a safe place."

Artemis' reply was unsettling.

"I take control by carefully manipulating my words and sentences. You take control by carefully manipulating the perceptions of others."

Twenty little pieces of uncomfortable truth. Holly slid to the ground, leaning her back against the worktop behind her. Artemis followed suit, but not before carefully removing his jacket and resting it over the back of a chair.

"We're actually going to have this conversation, aren't we?" she realised hopelessly.

"It would appear so, Holly," Artemis answered coolly.

"Fine," said Holly. "But stop with the multiples of five. I'm not going to jump on you again, I promise. And it feels like you're hypnotising me or something."

"Very well," accepted Artemis. "But you have to promise me that you're going to listen. I've been subjected to an inordinate amount of analysis of late. I think it's time to dispense some of my own."

Holly peeked at him through a gap in her fingers.

"Go for it," she instructed weakly.

"You get annoyed at Argon when he talks to you like a civilian." Artemis did indeed jump straight in. "You fail to realise how different your demeanor is when you're in your own clothes. That LEP uniform has become an extra limb for you, Holly, because it allows you to fulfill your ultimate ambition. When you wear the uniform, you are Captain Short. You are dangerous, independent and impenetrable. You have control over how you are seen. You can make it so they never think of you as anything but your job. At worst, you are the 'crazy girlie' captain. No one thinks about your feelings or your dreams. As far as they are concerned, you have none."

Holly gave him a look that asked, 'what of it?' It was bluster. He was completely and disconcertingly correct. He had read her.

He continued.

"When you're with me at the clinic, and someone comes in, you tense. You don't understand us, so you can't control what they see when they look. I should be nothing more than your human asset, but I am your friend. I should be nothing more than your friend, but we share things that no one else can understand. One brown and one blue, Holly. Sometimes, you worry that I know you better than anyone else on or under this Earth."

Holly pulled her arms defensively over her chest.

"Sometimes..." Her voice was little above a whisper, hesitant and unsure. "Sometimes, I imagine a day when there are no disasters or adventures. We just sit and look at the sea and talk. We just talk. We get on well."

"But you can't love a human like that. Like family. Because what would people think?"

Holly's eyes dipped to the ground in shame. Her relationship with Artemis and the Butler siblings was already a source of murmurs and raised eyebrows at work. The word 'traitor' had not been spoken yet, but she had seen it dancing on people's lips, on the tips of tongues. Some scars ran deep.

"It was a relief when we were in the past, wasn't it?" he guessed. "To be a different you and a different me, in a different time. We were unaccountable and we were alone together. No eyes watching us. That's why you kissed me."

She didn't like to think about that kiss, but when he put it like that, it made sense. She didn't remember feeling anything that reminded her of lust or desire. The very notion was disturbing. What she remembered feeling was a deep-rooted tie of affection that ran to her very bones. She remembered hoping that Artemis Fowl would always be within reaching distance.

"I think you're right," she whispered.

"Would you like to hear another secret I know about you, Holly?" asked Artemis gently.

Holly looked up, frowning tearfully. Artemis continued.

"The first thing you do when you arrive above ground, without fail, is fill your lungs with the air. Nothing tastes better than crisp, moonlit air, does it, Captain?"

Her eyes widened in wonder at his perceptiveness. She thought she might be starting to sense where he was going with this.

"In the moment of that breath, nothing else matters," said Artemis. "Because how can anything matter when you're flying between the ocean and the clouds?"

Holly sniffed deeply, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. A grim, determined sort of happiness was overtaking her features. Artemis Fowl was about to make a very valid point. I point that might just change the way that she lived her life from now on.

"Next time you think someone is looking and you and making a judgment, take a breath and pretend that it's surface air you're drinking in. You'll feel like you're flying again, and the judgment won't matter."

There was long silence after that. Holly was mulling over his words, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. All of a sudden, a huge tangled mess of worry was starting to trickle like spring water down her limbs and far away. It was nice. Artemis, meanwhile, merely inspected his fingernails tactfully, allowing her the private moment she needed.

Eventually, Holly spoke.

"When did you get so philosophical?" she asked, with a watery chuckle.

Artemis spread his arms wide.

"I am an enlightened man, Holly. Weeks of intensive therapy have left Artemis and Orion like Yin and Yang. Genius and virtue perfectly balanced."

Holly snorted.

"Yeah, right. Like you'd ever sacrifice half your personality."

"Well," admitted Artemis, aiming for sheepishness and failing, "Maybe it's more like eighty/twenty."

Holly merely regarded him, wordless.

"Look, Holly," cried Artemis defensively, "All I am saying is that there is a small part of my personality where Orion is allowed to live and philosophise to his heart's content. I credit him with any emotional wisdom I might display."

Holly punched him reproachfully in the shoulder and got to her feet.

"Right then, _friend_," she said, "Walnut salad then?"

Artemis stood up in her wake, turning his nose up at the dirt that had accumulated on his trousers.

"Sounds delightful," he replied, distracted with the task of wiping himself clean.

Holly rolled her eyes at him, and with a grin, busied herself with pulling ingredients and crockery from various cupboards and drawers. She was contentedly throwing rocket leaves into two bowls, when she heard Artemis clear his throat awkwardly.

"Yes, Artemis?" she asked, craning her head over her shoulder as she worked.

Artemis looked a little bashful.

"Well, Holly. I just wanted you to know that..."

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

She smiled, her cheeks dusting over with the lightest of blushes.

"Thank you," she replied softly.

She gestured towards a lettuce and Artemis dutifully began chopping, the ghost of a pleased grin playing about his features. They worked in companionable quiet, though Holly occasionally elbowed him playfully. After a while, she thought to ask.

"Artemis? Are you going to tell Butler that too?"

A look of concern crossed his face.

"Yes," he answered. "Holly, is he going to shoot me with something?"

Holly considered the prospect. She considered a lot of things actually. She considered the fact that there was nothing quite so wonderful as a hug from Juliet Butler, unapologetically affectionate and loving. She considered the way that, whenever they were in a sticky situation, Domovoi Butler would reach down and wordlessly squeeze her shoulder, one solider to another, in an action that said he would protect her back to the ends of the Earth without ever expecting her to do the same. Though she always would, of course. She also considered the feeling that visited her, without fail, every evening when she regarded her mismatched eyes in the mirror. They too had earned her some snide remarks at work, but she had always worn them with pride. Those brown and blues were a shared history.

Artemis was waiting for an answer to his question.

"It's quite possible," she answered eventually. "Yes."

And then she laughed, taking in a deep breath.

It tasted like moonlight.


End file.
